A Memory, A Masterpiece

I’ve got my head above the clouds,

and my body below the ground,

while one is spinning round left,

and the other right round,

with my heart there in between;

reality begins bursting at the seams

as my dreams are flowing in,

flooding through my veins,

replacing my blood with a transparent rain,

And I can’t help but find myself in pain.

Lost, confused, yet calm and tamed.

It seems as though it is meant to be,

that the floods have sent me out to sea,

where I will be washed upon a shore

so foreign, out of this world,

and I may as well step through the door

that might lead me from dream to reality;

the link being a thing called memory.

And this is where I’d come to realize,

that my sanity is in heaven,

and my soul is burning in hell.

And, well, I have nothing more to say,

though my heart still remains

here on Earth, where life grows.

And as my heart still beats,

with my mind lost and my soul gone,

I no longer love, no longer trust anyone.

Though, the drumming of my heart

will orchestrate one last song,

and I may then paint myself a memory,

and call it a masterpiece, that is, art.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

We do create masterpieces in our minds.
"Though, the drumming of my heart
will orchestrate one last song,
and I may then paint myself a memory,
and call it a masterpiece, that is, art. "
I liked the above lines. Life is remembering the good days and learning from the bad days. Thank you Brian for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote